


Unknown Caller (do not engage)

by gottalovev



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, First Kiss, Getting to Know Each Other, Happy Ending, Identity Porn, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Protective Rhodey, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-09 15:43:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8897692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gottalovev/pseuds/gottalovev
Summary: Steve had one job: exchange a couple of texts with a guy who thought he had Natasha's number, and let him down gently. It ends up being a lot more complicated than that.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MassiveSpaceWren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MassiveSpaceWren/gifts).



> A gift for MassiveSpaceWren through the Cap-Ironman Holiday exchange! I hope you like the spin I put on your prompt!
> 
>  
> 
> Note: The story was translated into Chinese by Ciela (thank you!), and can be found here: [part 1](http://ciela1987.lofter.com/post/1dd2d331_10b2a4a1),[part 2](http://ciela1987.lofter.com/post/1dd2d331_10bc985a).

Steve checks the last tick box on his tablet with a smile. His order is complete and without errors this time, which is sadly not something that happens often and always tends to put him in a good mood. 

"Hey Richard," Steve calls out. 

Richard startles, looking up from something that must have been totally engrossing on his phone. 

"Yes?" he asks, and then sees that all of the delivered boxes have been opened and Steve's tablet screen is off. "Is everything okay?"

"All good," Steve confirms. "Though I'll probably do another small order later today."

Last night must have been busy, because the alcohol stock behind the bar is dangerously low for several items and they'll need more tequila than the one bottle in today's delivery before the weekend is over. 

"Sure," Richard says. "I'll see you when I see you!" he adds with a salute, before hopping back in his truck once Steve has signed off his delivery confirmation.

Steve's phone vibrates in his pocket and he pulls it off. He furrows his brows in confusion at the unknown number and checks out the text.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _UNKNOWN CALLER_ @ (03:36):**  
Hi, it's me. Surprise? Frankly, I am astonished I remembered your number.

He’s about to reply that it’s an error – he certainly didn't give his phone number away lately – when Steve has a nagging doubt and pulls up a IM convo with Nat.

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (03:37):**  
Did you give my phone number to someone instead of your own again? 

Thankfully the answer comes fast. 

**> >RECEIVED FROM _NAT_ @ (03:39):**  
Shit, really? He remembered?

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (03:39):**  
He seems just as surprised by this as you are. He was drunk?

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _NAT_ @ (03:40):**  
Yes. Completely smashed. Someone had to come and get him, even.

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (03:40):**  
Then why give him my number, instead of turning him down neatly?

She's not shy, at all. Breaks about four hearts every shift.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _NAT_ @ (03:41):**  
Lethal puppy eyes? 

**> >RECEIVED FROM _NAT_ @ (03:41):**  
Couldn't bring myself to kick him when he was down. You're better at the whole letting them down gently thing, anyway. 

Steve rolls his eye and sighs.

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (03:41):**  
Nat, this is the last time I'm doing this. You need to commit to breaking hearts on your own.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _NAT_ @ (03:42):**  
Ingrate. I'm doing you a favor, he's totally your type.

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (03:42):**  
I am pretty sure I'm not his. I have a feeling he likes red-haired women.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _NAT_ @ (03:42):**  
Don’t sell yourself short. You know you're pretty much everyone's type.

As nice as the sentiment is, Steve shakes his head ruefully. 

**> > _SR_ SENT @ (03:43):**  
Nice try. Still last time. 

**> >RECEIVED FROM _NAT_ @ (03:43):**  
Okay. Thanks. Don't be too rough?

That is surprising. She seems to actually like the guy.

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (03:44):**  
I'll be just gentle enough. 

Steve promises. He's closing their convo and already thinking about how he should do it when a new message from the same unknown number pops up.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _UNKNOWN CALLER_ @ (03:44):**  
Sorry, shouldn't have bothered you.

If Steve doesn't answer this text that will most probably be it. The guy on the other side will just chalk it up to a false number given by that hot redhead behind the bar. He might never even set foot in the place again, which ties everything up with a bow. But it's also shitty, and since the guy was polite Steve decides to be more considerate than that.

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (03:46):**  
It's fine. Sorry I was away from my phone for a second.

He's typing the rest but words pop back almost immediately.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _UNKNOWN CALLER_ @ (03:46):**  
*horror* and you survived? You're tougher than me. I hit panic mode if 3 feet away from mine, and risk imminent death if in a different room. 

Really, really fast. Boy, he was waiting for a reaction for sure!

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (03:47):**  
I once went a whole weekend without mine.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _UNKNOWN CALLER_ @ (03:47):**  
I am horrified, shocked and appalled.

Steve smiles, because he's got to give it to the guy, he's got repartee. 

**> >RECEIVED FROM _UNKNOWN CALLER_ @ (03:48):**  
Hey, sorry, got to go. Just wanted to thank you for last night. For listening.

Wow, Natasha must really have liked this guy, if he got the impression she was actively listening. Not that she can't, but Natasha generally doesn't bother engaging drunks. But then again, if the man was so drunk he had to be dragged out, he might have mistaken Natasha's politeness with interest.

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (03:49):**  
Not a problem. Take care of yourself.

The unknown caller doesn't reply for long seconds. Then, 

**> >RECEIVED FROM _UNKNOWN CALLER_ @ (03:50):**  
I'm trying, believe it or not. Ciao.

And that, Steve thinks, is probably the end of it. After all, the man didn't try to flirt, not really, or ask to see Nat again.

Steve puts his phone away and gets back to work hauling in the cartons full of new liquor bottles. They should have a busy evening, and he doesn't have the time to be concerned about a guy he's never met.

**

The weird thing is that Tony – the guy named himself the second time he reached out 'hey, tony again, check this out' – doesn't start conversations. He either writes nonsense, or sends a link or a picture. Steve cannot find a pattern, neither in the subjects or a specific time or situation when it happens.

It starts by a kitten picture, a tiny thing that meows pitifully.

Steve doesn't answer. 

A link to the benefits of eating a banana. Random comment on the weather in Japan. The history of soft serve ice cream.

Steve doesn't answer either. 

It doesn't seem to bother Tony, who keeps on messaging almost every day, and once again Steve cannot figure out _why_ as he gets a link about LARP, which he learns are people who reenact Dungeon and Dragons games, but outdoors and with disguises. 

Then a recipe for tilapia with mango sauce. 

For a second Steve thinks that Tony will actually ask for a date following this one, but no. He gets no more texts, and Steve is so curious that he almost wants to prod. Be doesn't.

The texts and links start again, on and off. There is a gap of three days, about a month after first contact, and Steve thinks that the lack of answer finally did its job. Tony has been pretty persistent for weeks there, or used Steve's number to send info into the universe, it's not clear. But when the next message does arrive, it's a link to a YouTube video of a young girl doing a long math demonstration on a white board that makes no sense what so ever to Steve. It must be good because the comment section is full of people exclaiming about how amazing she is, and Steve finally cracks.

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (11:05):**  
Smart girl

He writes, and then curses himself. He should have let it go, surely Tony was really about to give up. 

It takes long seconds for the answer to come, but it arrives in the form of two rapid texts.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (11:07):**  
Smart girls are the best. 

**> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (11:07):**  
So close, but made a tiny error. Oops. There goes a million dollars. 

**> > _SR_ SENT @ (11:08):**  
A million for a math problem?

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (11:08):**  
Yeah.

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (11:08):**  
And you caught the mistake?

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (11:09):**  
Math is kinda my thing.

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (11:09):**  
Why don't you do million dollar problems then?

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (11:10):**  
I could solve three.

That means the guy is either brilliant, or a total liar.

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (11:10):**  
Then get your millions!

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (11:11):**  
Don't need them. Kids like her ^^ do. 

Steve almost asks if it's a life decision – voluntary simplicity or whatever it’s called - or because he's filthy rich, but he figures that if he asks no question it means he will get no lie.

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (11:12):**  
That's… generous of you.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (11:13):**  
I guess. Gotta go, ciao.

And he's gone. Frankly Steve is a bit confused because surely Tony hoped for a reaction by keeping contact all of this time, but when it works he's the one who disengages? It's weird. 

What is even weirder, though, is how Steve has kept all of the random texts and links, and can't see himself throwing them away anytime soon. But then again… it's not that surprising. The crux of the matter is that even though he hates to admit it, Steve is lonely. Sure, he has his friends at the bar, but they have their own lives. Tony's texts, in the last month, have been little attentions directed just at him and that brightened Steve's day, making him feel connected even if he never answered. That's probably why Steve finally cracked, unable to resist someone who tried to reach out over and over again. And who knows, maybe Tony is lonely too.

**

It's hard, after that, to not interact with Tony. Steve never initiates it, but more and more he fires at least one text a day. Tony engages easily, but never for long, and not once does he suggest they meet, which is a relief. Steve should have come clean on not being Natasha the first they really texted, with the math girl, but he hasn't and now it's been so long that he feels like it would be weird and he's gotten used to the light interactions. He likes Tony, a whole lot. He's weird, but also obviously brilliant and funny.

Tony ups the tempo on the messages, and in reaction Steve answers more. There's rarely a day without conversations now. Unfortunately this is one of those days. Steve checks his texts again, just to be sure, and sighs. 

"What's with you?" Sam asks.

Steve jerks up and tries to school his face to look innocent.

"Nothing, why?"

Sam's right eyebrow rise. "Come on, man. You're making the sad puppy face."

"I'm not making a sad puppy face," Steve denies, rolling his eyes. 

"You are," Sam insists. "Plus you haven't wiped down the counter yet, and the bar's been open for an hour. But not only that, you’re glued to your phone. You've been all week. So what gives? Found yourself a sweetheart?"

"No!" Steve exclaims. "Nothing like that."

They are just texting. But… it's true that Steve is invested. He wants to know more, he eagerly awaits new texts. Oh, dammit, maybe there is something there. He _likes_ Tony maybe a little too much.

"I've never seen you use that brick of a phone of yours this often," Sam adds. "And you keep smiling at the thing, or making sad puppy faces when it's silent. Looks like finding a sweetheart to me!"

"It's not." Steve declares, putting the damn thing in his back pocket. He hasn't even met the guy, they is nothing between them. But sure, who could blame Steve for wanting to chat with a quick-witted person who links to whatever he finds interesting. That's all there is. 

"Hey, I'm not judging," Sam says, rising his hands. "It's nice to see you smile."

"I smile!" Steve protests. He does, right? 

"With us, yes," Sam says, making a gesture at the bar. "But it wouldn't hurt if you left your comfort zone."

It's true that Steve mostly interacts with his coworkers, but it's a choice he made when he came back to civilian life. It fulfilled his social quota with no unwanted pressure, and anyway he wasn't emotionally available for more and knew it. It's been a couple of years now, and as much as he loathes admitting Sam is right, he should try to branch out more. 

"I know," Steve says with a sigh.

"Great," Sam answers with a grin. "So, who's the mystery texter?"

"I'm not sure," Steve admits, rubbing the back of his neck.

Sam's eyebrow rise once more. They do that a lot. "Come again?"

"Nat gave my number to some guy, instead of her own." 

"Why the hell would she do that?" Sam says scrunching his face in confusion.

"She's done it a couple of times. She expects me to let them down in her place, when she doesn't have the patience."

"Nat shuts down people every night!" Sam says, as if makes no sense.

"She said she didn't want to kick him while he was down, or something like that," Steve explains. He knows it makes very little sense.

"Doesn't seem to me like you let him down gently," Sam says.

Steve sighs deeply. "I know. I tried. I didn't answer for a whole month. But he's… he's something."

"Geez, Steve, sounds like you have a crush!" Sam teases.

"I have no idea what he looks like," Steve is struggling to deny. His cheeks are heating up and he hates it. "Besides, he was interested in Nat. I've been pretending to be her for weeks, I have a feeling that's really crappy to start something."

"Yeah," Sam says. "Maybe not that guy. So the next person who comes in and who catches your interest, you flirt. For real."

The mere idea of it makes Steve's heart race. Smiling to customers and being solicitous of their needs is easy. He's been told again and again that he's easy to talk to, which is a great quality when you're a barman; the tip jar at the end of most nights proves he's doing a good job, too. But flirting for real? He’s got an abysmal life-long track record at being terrible when trying to chat up people he finds attractive, always getting nervous and tongue-tied at the worst moment. Since he's been back from the war, Steve hasn't given it a decent try, even, mostly just reacting if someone was forward enough to hit on him first. And then again, not often because he feels cornered easily. Sam might mean well, but he's asking for a lot.

"I'm not-"

"Comfort zone, Steve," Sam says. "I'm not saying it has to go anywhere. Just make a decent effort, that's all."

"Okay," Steve says. "Okay."

"Attaboy."

It's a quiet day, a weekday, and it’s not like Sam said it had to be right now anyway. The next person who catches his interest could be in a couple of days.

"Now give me that phone," Sam says, reaching around Steve to pull it from his jeans pocket.

He lunges at Sam to try to take it back, but Sam's quick enough to dart around the bar and dance away, Steve's phone still in hand and grin on his face. 

"What are you doing?" Steve says with a small rising of panic. Maybe Tony will text again, they had a conversation about The Fifth Element yesterday, it was fun. Tony could come back to it 24 hours later; it's happened before! 

"You need a break from this non-sweetheart of yours. So no distractions while you do your job for a couple of hours and practice your moves. I'll give it back later, promise." 

"Okay, fine," Steve says with a small smile and a nod. 

He knows that Sam is just trying to help, and it's true that Steve has become quite dependent on his friends and now Tony. He can do without his phone for one shift; after all,he used to barely use the thing. Steve pointedly wipes down the counter and Sam laughs, going to a customer at the end of the bar.

Routine sets in, and Steve makes sure everything is stocked and that no one waits for service too long. It's a Wednesday, and a slow one at that, so it's quite relaxed. He did promise Sam that he'd make an effort to flirt, though, so he subtly check out the customers to see if there are any possibilities. Most of them are regulars, and people he can't see himself with. The closest to interesting is Rosa, who is a nice girl that has flirted with him before, but she's in a very complicated on and off relationship with another regular. If Steve followed their saga right, they aren't together at the moment, but it's only a question of time before they make up. He doesn't need to get in the middle of that kind of drama. 

Someone accidentally dropped a pitcher of beer in one of the booths, so Steve fetches the mop and cleans it up. At least the guy responsible apologizes for the mess, which is sadly a rarity. Cleaning supplies stowed in the back-store again, Steve goes back to the bar and notices a new customer, busy typing on his phone. He has no drink in front of him, probably because no one is behind the zinc. Sam's is nowhere to be seen, he probably decided to go on break. Sam might tease Steve about his texting, but he's no better.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting," Steve tells the guy. 

He looks up and Steve cant help but stare, as he's slammed with a 'oh, damn, he's gorgeous' realization. It's the big brown eyes, mainly, that crinkle in the corner when he smiles back at Steve. In his late thirties or early forties, if Steve would guess, the man has casually disheveled brown hair, a crisply shaved Van Dyke and wears blocky eyeglasses that suit him just right. He's extremely handsome, and with a wide charmer's smile that hints that he perfectly know it. Steve is so smitten that he almost misses what he says next.

"Not a problem, I just got in," his customer says. 

The guy is fiddling with a coaster, turning it in his fingers and tapping on the bar. Even his hands are nice, Steve notes. Okay, so maybe he has a thing for well-dressed men, and this one has a suit that fits like a second skin, which is unusual in a modest bar in Brooklyn. There's something about Cute Customer that makes Steve think he's seen him before, but then again, it's New York. Maybe he's an actor, and Steve has seen him in a commercial or an episode on TV. Who he is doesn't matter much, though; Steve made a promise to Sam, and since this guy is the first person to catch his interest, Steve makes eye contact and leans in to ask his next question.

"What can I do for you?" he asks, making it as flirty as he knows how. He's terrible at this, always has been, but somehow his intent must come across because the man's smile widens.

"What's on offer?" he volleys right back, eyes sparkling and giving him a blatant once over, and immediately Steve finds himself way over his head. This is going very fast. 

He tries not to freeze but he can't sustain the eye contact – what if he blushes? It would be mortifying! As smoothly as he can, Steve gestures to the wall behind himself.

"Whatever you feel like," Steve says. Not so bad a save, he thinks. 

"Fair enough." 

When Steve looks back at the man, he's chewing on his bottom lip, tapping the counter rapidly with the coaster. He's scanning the bottles of liquor – top shelf scotch, mostly – but looks conflicted. A mix of longing and dread, and his other hand is loosening the knot of his tie, as if he's looking for air. 

"You know what, I'm not sure-" he says slowly and Steve's got a feeling about this.

He grabs a chilled sparking water bottle from the fridge under the bar, the best brand they've got, and he extends it to the man.

"Here. While you think about it," he says casually.

The instant relief on Cute Customer's face tells Steve he guessed right about a complicated history with alcohol. 

"Thanks," he says, uncapping the bottle and taking a sip. 

Jose chooses this moment to come over for an order, leaning against the bar a couple of feet away. "Hey, Steve! Two Buds, please!"

It's not like Steve can ignore the patrons, so he fetches Jose his beers, and then mixes a couple of drinks as requested by Rosa's table. From the corner of his eyes, he notes that the handsome stranger is either scanning the bar or busy typing on his phone again. The pause gave Steve the breather he needed and he's ready to try and speak with Cute Customer again, who _has_ been checking him out. It's a thrill, he won't lie. Sam came back from wherever he was, and Steve calls him over.

"You leave that one to me, okay?" he says, tilting his head towards the end of the bar. 

"What?" Sam says, checking out where Steve’s pointing. His eyes go big, but then he grins at Steve. "Oh! Jesus, Steve. Go big or go home, right? Well good on you, man."

It shouldn't be so surprising, since Sam is the one who forced this, but Steve smiles with a shrug. Cute Customer is definitely easy on the eyes, and he seems up for some flirting himself too, which is going to make the whole thing easier.

"Go!" Sam says with a light shove.

Armed with his trusty towel, Steve goes back to the end of the bar, opens the fridge and moves a couple of things in it just to seem to be busy. Cute Customer has put his phone down on the bar and is slowly sipping his water, observing Steve. It's a heady feeling. What can he say, though? Steve's eyes fall on the phone again, or he guesses it's one even though at the moment it looks like a blank piece of glass in the shape of a rectangle

"I've never seen anything like this," Steve says, nodding to the device.

The man grins, twirls it with a finger. "Yeah. New design, this one is a prototype."

Maybe he gets to test them, that's pretty cool. "It's a phone, right?"

"Among other things, but basically yes." He swipes his fingers on the surface and the thing lights up. Another gesture and a little holographic screen pops up _in the air_ , reclined from the phone.

"Holy shit!" Steve breathes out, impressed. He approaches, eyes fixed on the device. "What's that for?"

"It's just a screen. It shows pictures, videos, a browser, whatever." The man grabs the phone, flicks it, and then holds it up for a second where Steve hears a little click. When he sets it down again, he taps two or three commands and a picture of Steve, looking frankly astonished, is hovering in the air.

"There you go, handsome."

"That's amazing," Steve says, pretending he didn't hear the endearment or that it's a normal way to speak to people. Maybe it is, for Cute Customer. "How come you get to have a prototype?"

The man raises his eyebrows, as if he's surprised at the question. "I ask nicely, and R&D indulges me."

"Cool." Steve dares to reach to touch the hologram and smiles at how his finger gets painted with the colors of the photograph. It's really just a projection, but it's flawless. 

"I sure hope so. It does everything a smart phone can do, but better." A touch to the surface replaces the photograph by a weather forecast, another pulls out a listing that looks like stock prices.

Steve nods as he pulls back. "Very impressive."

Now finished with the water bottle, Cute Customer smiles again and folds in the screen back into the phone. "It should be marketed in a couple of months."

It frankly looks like a gadget that will be terribly expensive, though. 

"I'm sure it's going to be very popular. Do you want another?" Steve asks, collecting the empty bottle and putting it in the recycle box.

"No, thanks. It's not that you're not particularly lovely, but I've got to go," the guy says and that's a huge disappointment. He's taking out a bill form his wallet and by the second Steve sees his chances of seeing him again shrinking like a snowball in the desert. 

On an impulse, Steve grabs a pen and writes his name and number on a napkin, then slides it across the top of bar. His heart is thundering in his chest, but he figures he's got to act or he'll regret it. 

"Call me if you want to go grab a coffee some time," Steve says. 

The man's answering smile widens, at least until he looks at the napkin, and it freezes. He then furrows his brows, and looks back at Steve looking confused.

"My number? To call me?" Steve says slowly.

"718-555-4976," the stranger says. For some reason, he doesn't look pleased, voice flat.

"Yes?" Honestly, Steve has no idea what the problem is.

"Okay." With a tight little smile, Cute Customer nods, pockets the napkin, turns on his heels and promptly leaves. 

Lost, Steve looks at Sam and sees that his friend has witnessed the end of the exchange, and has his brows furrowed, too.

"What was that?" Sam says, coming over. 

"I have no idea!"

Sam huffs and grabs Steve's shoulder, shaking him lightly. "Whatever. I think you did great! I have no idea what's his problem either. But hey, it figures he would be a bit of a weirdo."

Steve sighs, bummed out. It sucks, that guy was really cute. Sam, being the bro he is, gives him back his phone, surely to make him feel better.

"You did good, you can have this back. It's been buzzing all night, too."

Steve huffs and smiles, because he might have most probably struck out, but Tony is always entertaining. Some nights he just keeps sending one weird link after another, and Steve sure needs the pick me up. 

There are a string of bubbles in the convo, but they are all text and starts about an hour ago.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (12:25):**  
I probably shouldn't have done this without asking you, but I think I'm safe because I don't see you. 

Steve frowns. 

**> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (12:31):**  
Frankly, I’m not 100% sure I'm at the right place. It's pretty hazy.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (12:38):**  
How is all the staff beautiful? Jesus.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (12:44):**  
You know what? There's a considerate hot blonde that I think is my new favorite.

A sense of dread starts to spread through Steve's chest.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (01:15):**  
Water, at a bar. Me. What is the world coming to?

"Shit," Steve curses, and he dials Nat's number.

"What the hell, Steve?" she answers after two rings. It's almost two in the morning, on her day off, so he understands she's annoyed that he's calling. He might pay for that one, but it's an emergency.

"The guy you gave my number to. Couple of months back," he says, urgently. "Remember him?"

"What?"

"Instead of giving your number, you gave mine? Annoying habit of yours? You said he was drunk, wanted me to let him down gently?" Steve insists.

"What about him?" Nat says through a yawn.

"What did he look like?" Steve asks, desperate. "Brown hair, brown eyes?"

"Yeah," she says. "I'll send you a pic. Give me a sec."

"A pic? You have a pic of him?" That makes no sense.

"Steve, he's one of the richest men in the world and a playboy on top, it's pretty easy to find a pic of him," Nat says, to Steve's complete bewilderment. His phone dings and he hurries to open the attached pic and gapes because yes, that's Cute Customer.

"He's famous?"

"It's Tony Stark, of course he's famous."

Oh, shit. Tony Stark, Stark like former Stark weapons and bombs, or like current Stark green energy and technological wonders. Extra futurist-looking phones for the new model, apparently. Tony, who sends weird links and could solve Millenium problems, but said he didn't need the million dollars that came with them.

"Why the fuck did you give my number to Tony Stark!" Steve's rising his voice, he can't help it. When he sees he's drawing eyes, he leaves the bar to find a spot that is calmer, with less noise and curious gazes. 

"I'd seen him on the news, it was the 20th anniversary of his parent's death, and those vultures were on his case because of it. And he told me about how everyone left, even the perfect girlfriend. Huge sad eyes, it was terrible. Insisted on asking for my number, and I cracked. I gave yours, but I was sure he'd black it out. What about him? How is a two month story relevant?"

Steve wants to hit his head against the wall. "He came over tonight."

"Looking for me? That makes no sense."

"I've been texting with him."

"Then what's the problem?" Nat asks, exasperated.

"I never told him I wasn't you," Steve admits. That, in fact, is the crux of the matter. He really should have come clean to Tony when he started texting back. 

"So he thinks we've been texting for two months," she says. "It would have been nice to know, in case he came back to the bar and picked up on a conversation I knew nothing about."

"Yeah, well, he won't be back," Steve says, sitting down in the tiny office space, in the personnel only area. The face Tony made when he recognized the phone number was clear enough. "Sorry I disturbed you, Nat, good night."

"I'll want the full story!" she insists before they hang up.

Shit, what a nightmare. Steve had found Cute Customer fun and interesting, but he'd liked his text buddy a whole lot more, and it's that loss that hits the hardest.

Steve goes through the messages left by Tony again, and gets to the ones that follow mentioning the water that made him realize what had went down.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (01:17):**  
Damn he's fine.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (01:17):**  
You are too! If I remember right? Oh boy. Is that weird? Sorry.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (01:25):**  
Not sure that hanging out in a bar is the best thing for me.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (01:26):**  
Ohh, he's coming back. Sorry lady, you snooze, you lose.

Then nothing.

And fuck, for a moment there Tony had been into him… If it wasn't for the whole phone number issue, Steve would probably have scored a date. 

But then again… maybe he can salvage this. Or at the very least he needs to apologize. Taking a deep breath, he types his own message. It takes a lot of time to write it out.

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (01:58):**  
I know this looks bad. It IS bad. But there's an explanation and hopefully you'll want to hear me out.

He sends it, then winces as he re-reads it. Way to omit the important stuff right off the bat, so he sends another text.

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (01:59):**  
I'm very sorry, I never wanted to deceive you. My name is Steve, by the way.

Dead silence. It was to be expected. Steve understands that Tony probably doesn't want to talk to him right now, if ever. With a sigh he pockets his phone and goes to finish his shift.

**

Steve doesn't hear back from Tony at all. He has received no random link, insult or answer in reply to his messages, nothing. Steve has been tempted to explain how he'd been behind the phone all of this time, blurt out the whole story right there in text form, but he'd prefer a conversation for that. To answer Tony's questions, if he has some.

The more he thinks about it, though, the less Steve thinks he had a real chance with Tony Stark apart from maybe a hookup. He has no idea why a genius billionaire would be interested in an ex-Army barman. But more than that, though, Steve misses their odd conversations. He'd trade the chance for a date or sex with Tony Stark to have his weird text friendship back in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, it seems he lost that for good, too. 

A week after the Phone Number Incident, as Steve has come to call it, he receives an email from Thor, their unofficial bouncer on crazy busy days. It has a link to a video with a sleepy otter that squeaks at the camera, and asks to be petted. It awfully cute and actually makes Steve chuckle in amusement. Thinking that he has nothing to lose, Steve sends the link to Tony by text. No apology, no additional comment, just the link in the way Tony used to communicate at first. There's no reaction throughout the day, but Steve was expecting that. It's the first time, apart from right after the Phone Number Incident, where Steve has been the one to make contact. Clearly, even though a bit of time has passed, Tony doesn't want to speak to him anymore. 

Steve is determined that he won't stop trying to make this right. But should he go hang out near Stark Tower downtown and hope to have a word with Tony? Try to find if he can schedule an appointment with the guy? He's scrolling up and up on his phone along the long text conversations he had for the last two month and can't help but smile. There are so many good ones in there. 

He's stuck once again by how in the first few weeks, before Steve started to answer, Tony would tweet so randomly. Nothing for a day, then three links. Or a sequence of four days in a row with a message, then a blank of three days with nothing. Tony had been persistent, for a whole month, before Steve answered one night. Steve takes out a notepad and starts taking note.

 

**

The buzzing alerts Steve that it's almost time. He wipes his hands on the towel and grabs his phone, stepping out back. The alley is deserted and he leans on the brick wall, makes sure that he has the right link, and, when his phone chimes, he sends a text to Tony. 

It's a recipe for slow cooked pulled pork.

That will do, he thinks, nodding to himself. He waits for a minute, but he didn't expect a reply, not really. Hoped for it a little, but didn't expect it. What he wonders the most is if Tony even _gets_ the messages. Because if he doesn't, has him blocked or filtered or changed numbers, even, well Steve is doing this for nothing. He still wants to take that chance, though. 

With a sigh, Steve pockets his phone and goes back in to work. He has a strange customer tonight, a man who's been glaring at him for no reason at all. He's still there, dark eyes observing him, finishing his beer. He hasn't tried to make small talk, just has been observing the bar and Steve in particular. Whatever his problem is, he's finished his drink so Steve goes fetch the glass with a small smile. He's about to ask if he'd need another when his eyes fall on a rectangular piece of glass by his elbow and Steve's stomach sweeps. It's one of those fancy Stark phones, the one Tony showed him that night.

"I didn't know those came out yet," Steve says, gesturing to the phone, since he got caught staring. 

"They haven't," the guy says. "It's not even mine."

He made sure that Steve could see it, though. And again is observing him closely. Steve almost opens his mouth to ask why he'd have a phone that is not his and realizes that it cuts a little too close to a problem he's had and his jaw closes shut. And who would have a Stark phone prototype but someone close to Tony himself? That this man is here, almost drilling through Steve's skull with angry stares, is not a coincidence.

"Can I help you with something?" Steve asks.

"I hope you can," the man says, double tapping the phone on the bar. "Tell me, _Steve_ ," he sneers, and shit, this is no good. "Why the fuck are you messing with my best friend like that?"

There's a free fall feeling in Steve's stomach for a second, because yeah, that's bad. 

"Not messing with him, I swear," Steve blurts immediately. "I would never."

"But you did," the man says. "You, and that red-haired woman. I was there when she gave Tony the number, I was dragging his sorry ass out of here. What did she think? Oh, let's troll Tony Stark, that's going to be fun!"

"That's not it!" Steve says. 

They are interrupted when the phone on the bar starts ringing and buzzing. The caller ID flashes _ANSWER RIGHT NOW RHODES!!!!!_. The guy makes a grimace and does so. Rhodes must be his name.

"Hey, To-"

He stops right there, being yelled at. Steve can't make out the words, they are too faint with the bar's background noise.

"I just-" Rhodes tries to say, but there's more yelling. "I know!" He clamps his mouth shut and rubs at his forehead. Steve is tempted to smile because that seems like an epic dressing down. "Yes Tony. I know you can. I'm sorry, okay?"

Steve figures Tony has stopped yelling, because there's no angry sounds coming from the phone anymore. He's very tempted to ask Rhodes for the phone, and try to make his own apologies.

"No, I didn't punch him," Rhodes is saying, rolling his eyes. He's totally engrossed in the conversation, doesn't mind Steve's presence one minute. "Maybe a little. Just a bit!"

Does that mean Tony knows where Rhodes is right now? That is highly possible. Not finding his phone, Tony must have tracked it, and being in this bar in particular must have told a pretty clear story.

"Okay, yes, I understand. Yes I'm bringing it back." A pause. "Tony, I'm bringing it back right now. You will not have my wings for that inexistent crime, even if you call the CSAF!"

After goodbyes, Rhodes hangs up, shaking his head.

"Sounded pissed," Steve says.

"You think?" Rhodes snarks. "Tony doesn't like the meddling, but that's too bad. There are too few people who have his back. Now, if you excuse me, I need to bring him his toy back before he has an aneurism." 

"I'd like to have the chance to explain and apologize. It's a long and convoluted story, the mix-up is my fault, but Nat and I never tried to play Tony," Steve says.

"You keep texting him!" Rhodes exclaims. "Tell him yourself!"

Steve can't help the smile, "So he's getting them!"

"He is. And I don't know what you're playing at," Rhodes says. "But you mess with him one more time, and you'll see me again." 

"Fair enough," Steve replies. 

With a curt nod, Rhodes settles his tab and then goes on his way, leaving Steve a bit rattled. Clearly he's a close friend of Tony's and wants to protect him, which is good. Everyone needs friends like that. 

Steve wonders what motivated Rhodes to come over. It's been several weeks now since the incident, after all. He's tempted to take out his own phone and call Tony, start on that apology right away. But no, it would mess everything up at this point. And Tony doesn’t have his phone back yet anyway.

In the following weeks, Steve continues to enforce his plan. For each weird video or link that Tony initially sent, Steve finds one somehow related - but more in line with his own tastes – and sends it back. Steve didn't realize at first, but everything that Tony sent through the texts, links or pictures, are windows into that big brain of his, if you care to pay attention. It's Steve's turn to share now, sending the info back at the appointed times, and he tries to be creative. 

Steve's phone never, ever pings in return. It's to be expected, in a way, since back when Tony thought Nat was at the other end, there were no replies for a whole month. If Tony not only gets his texts, but also noticed what Steve is trying to do, the best hope is that he'll wants to play along at one point. Meanwhile, Steve does his shifts at the bar and goes about his life the same way as normal, all the while trying not to center his life on those texts in the void. He's trying to brace himself for the letdown, either no number at the other end of the line, or Tony never ever replying. 

But hope and anticipation are powerful forces: Steve thinks today is when he'll get an answer. It's the equivalent of the day of the math video, when Tony shared that smart girl with the whiteboard and Steve finally cracked.

Tony had sent that video around 11 o'clock in the evening. Steve has resolved to do the same, and it's like the hours are _dragging_. It's only 10:30, and he has waited all day.

"Man, you're looking at that thing as if it's going to explode!" Sam says, jolting Steve out of his bubble. 

"What? No," Steve says, a bit guilty as he puts the phone in his back pocket.

Sam knows the whole story, at least the whole mix up with Nat, Steve and Tony in the middle, and had been real thorough in telling Steve how stupid he was for not to coming clean when he started exchanging texts on the regular. 

"Are you still trying to text Stark?"

"I am," Steve says.

The admission makes Sam look sad. "Steve… maybe it's time to let this go."

Maybe it is time, Sam might be right. If Steve doesn't get a text back with the video, he'll do just that.

"I'll know soon," Steve says.

"You realize that we're talking about Tony Stark, here," Sam says. "I don't know what you expect out of this."

It's probably a nice way to say that Steve doesn't have much of a chance to hold the interest of a billionaire playboy. He's told himself that a million times, it's nothing new.

"I know he's Tony Stark," Steve says. He'd spent way too much time on the Internet researching the man: Tony didn't do commitment; he used to go through partners like new shirts, though that seems to have slowed down in the last years. The chances for a guy like Steve to land a guy like Tony for more than a couple of rounds of sex are very slim. "I just want to apologize. I owe him that."

"I'm not saying this to be rude," Sam says. "I hope you do get to give that apology. But it's been weeks."

"I know," Steve agrees with a shrug.

"Who knows if he even gets the texts," Sam adds.

"He was getting them three weeks ago."

"Hey, your problem," Sam says, backing up with his hands raised. "I'm just worried about you, man."

"I'm fine," Steve answers, placating. 

"Will you do me a favor?" Sam asks. He looks intent, and Steve's so glad to have him.

"What, are you going to tell me to flirt with the first interesting customer that comes in again?" Steve jokes.

"It _would_ do you some good to get laid at last. But no. I saw that you've got game, since you went straight for Tony Stark last time."

"Oh Jesus," Steve says with a sigh. "You know perfectly well that I had no idea who it was."

Sam laughs, and ends up squeezing Steve's arm. "I know. You’re hopeless like that. But don't drag this out, okay? For your sanity."

Steve nods. "Yes, I promise."

Tomorrow. He'll send the text with the link in half an hour, and if he doesn't have an answer tomorrow he'll give up.

***

He's so nervous, Steve's hands are shaking and his stomach is tied in knots, just because he's sending a damn text. He forced himself to not look at his phone in the last three days, to mirror the gap that happened before the video.

When he finally presses 'send', Steve is practically having an out of body experience with the vibration and heart pounding. He needs to get a grip, this is pathetic.

Sam said that he was watching his screen like a hawk earlier, but right now Steve cannot even blink. He's never been able to see if a text had been read if it's exchanged with a Starkphone, which have thorough privacy protocols. He'd love to see even a little sign that it's been received, but it's impossible, he has to wait. 

If the time passed slowly all day, the second now that he has just sent the link seems to take forever, and Steve's realizes he's holding his breath before letting go explosively.

Four minutes now. Nothing. 

_Fuck_.

The disappointment is like a strong wave that takes hold of his heart and squeezes painfully. He really had hoped that Tony would answer this one. But then again, it's a Friday evening; he probably has a million things to do and many people to do them with. Tony Stark surely didn't sit around waiting for his phone to chime all night. Maybe he'll answer later, or tomorrow. Or, as Steve didn't want to consider, maybe he won't answer at all. 

Steve sighs deeply, and he's putting the phone back in his pocket when it vibrates and he almost drops it on the floor. His heart is back to racing and it's like his hands are full of thumbs. A messenger alert is disappearing from the lock screen when he finally looks at it, and he hurries to punch his code. 

**> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (11:05):**  
That _is_ pretty impressive.

"Yes!" Steve says, punching the air and grinning so hard he must look like a maniac. Fuck yes. His heart is racing, in the good way, and a little more and he'd dance around.

He's caught Sam's attention – he's raising a judging eyebrow at him per usual, but there's a fond little smile curling up the corner of his mouth too.

"Well, look at that," Sam says and Steve smiles back, beaming. 

But then he gets nervous, looks at his phone and doesn't quite know what to do. Steve had thought of many ways he could react if Tony texted, some at this exact moment, but he's still completely unprepared. He wishes that he could go with total honesty, but this tenuous reformed link could be too fragile, and he's afraid that jumping in right away with apologies could break it immediately.

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (11:07):**  
She's amazing 

The video was of Jessy Graff breezing through an American Ninja Warrior course with panache. 

**> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (11:08):**  
I'd probably break my face two steps in

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (11:08):**  
The hardest part for me is the Log Grip

He hates the Log Grip with a passion. 

**> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (11:08):**  
You can do that shit?

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (11:09):**  
In training. Never competed officially.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (11:10):**  
That's too bad.

And now Steve's not quite sure what to do. He wants to ask Tony to meet him, for a coffee or something, but he doesn't quite know if he should wait or not. The decision is taken out of his hands, though.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (11:14):**  
I've got to go, they've been waiting for me to go on stage for close to 15 minutes now.

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (11:14):**  
I understand. Sorry it was a bad time.

If on one hand he's sorry to have disturbed Tony's evening, but he's also happy Tony did take the time to answer anyway. It must means he thought it was important enough, if he delayed something that sounds official.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (11:15):**  
It's okay. Just coincidence.

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (11:15):**  
Thanks for texting back. I was really looking forward to it.

The words look flat, on a little screen. He hopes Tony gets that it's sincere.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (11:15):**  
Yeah?

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (11:16):**  
Of course. I've missed texting with you.

I've missed _you_ he really wants to say. Tony doesn't reply immediately and Steve winces. Was this too soon? He decides not to wait for an answer.

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (11:16):**  
Have a nice evening.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (11:17):**  
Meh, schmoozing. No choice but to do it though. Good night.

The words 'later, then', or 'talk to you soon' are at the tip of Steve's fingers, but he doesn't dare. He does send a quick "Bye!" but then closes his phone, putting it in his pocket. He'll look if Tony replies, but he won't watch his phone every ten seconds, desperate for a new bubble (it's tempting, though).

A drink appears right in front of Steve's nose, and he realizes he'd dropped on the stool they have behind the bar for slow days. 

"How did it go?" Sam asks. 

Steve rarely drinks, he doesn't have a taste for it and he barely feels the effect unless he really commits. He nonetheless tosses back the whiskey in a gulp. The burn is welcome, shakes him a little bit.

"It went…" Steve resists taking out the phone to re-read it all, but when he thinks about it, he relaxes a little. "It went pretty well!" he has to admit, and smiles up at Sam. 

"Good," Sam says, squeezing his shoulder. "You were expecting this. A text from him."

Nodding, Steve gets up and cracks his neck and stretches. God, it's like his shoulders have unknotted and he hadn't realized it was so bad. "I hoped. It fitted the pattern."

"Are you going to be totally useless tonight? You should have taken the night off," Sam says.

Steve laughs. "And drive myself crazy waiting for a text alone in my apartment? Nah. And I'm good now, I'll be fine. He won't text back tonight."

He doesn't think so, at least.

"Fine. I'm happy for you, man," Sam says with a smile. 

He's happy too, even though he has no idea where they'll go from here. Hopefully it's going to be better from now on.

**

Steve waits for two days and doesn't get new messages. His mood is getting worse as the times passes. Why did Tony answer if it was to leave him hanging afterwards? Frustrated, Steve takes the messages from the top and re-reads them all, checks the time period where he started replying and he doesn't get it. Tony had texted again the following day! Why the silence now?

And then it hits him: _Tony_ had been the first to text every single time after that. Since Steve has played at reversing the roles, it means the ball in his camp, not the other way around. Cursing, he types a message.

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (01:20):**  
God, sorry for the silence, my bad. Have you read Watership Down? 

Before the Phone Number Incident, they'd started talking about books, music, movies and found they have taste so different, it's almost comical. But the discussions are nonetheless (and maybe because of that) always interesting. Tony's answer comes almost immediately.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (01:21):**  
With the bunnies? Really? REALLY?

Steve grins, because that's exactly how Tony would have answered a month and a half ago.

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (01:22):**  
It's more than about bunnies, and you know it!

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (01:23):**  
Bunnies, Steve. Do I look like someone who has anything to do with bunnies?

It's the first time that he's referred to him by name, indicating he knows perfectly who he's talking to, and Steve is incredibly relieved.

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (01:23):**  
I think you secretly LOVE bunnies.

They banter for a little bit, and it's all for the day. All in all, Steve is happy about it. If he has to take the initiative and text first, he will. 

In fact, it's what he does, every day and when he dares, sometimes twice a day. Tony generally replies right away, and if he doesn't it's because of work. Steve would love to hear about that, what he's working on, but he figures they need to get each other a little more before Tony opens up about it. 

Maybe a week after they have started talking regularly, Steve opens up with a pretty cool tidbit about a probe on a distant comet but the reply blindsides him totally.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (08:10):**  
What do you want from me, Steve?

The way it's formulated makes Steve uneasy. It doesn't take a genius to guess that Tony Stark is constantly surrounded by people who want things from him, maybe even just a brush with fame.

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (08:11):**  
I enjoyed texting with you before I knew you were Tony Stark. I'd like to keep doing that.

If that's all he can have, he'll take it. Sure, he was attracted to Tony in person, and would have liked more, but this is more important to him. He has a couple of good friends, at the bar, but it's rare he makes new ones, interesting ones. 

**> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (08:12):**  
You didn't know?

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (08:12):**  
Had no idea.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (08:12):**  
That's all? This texting?

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (08:13):**  
If that’s all you wants, yes. I would also like to explain what happened, with Nat and the number.

There is no answer and Steve fidgets, nervous. He waits for five minutes, but in the end he can't resist.

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (08:18):**  
Tell you what. I'll eat breakfast at the diner across the street from the bar for the next week. I'll be there from 9 to 10, starting tomorrow. You decide if you want to come over and hear that story, and my apologies.

Hopefully Tony will take him up on the offer. 

**

It's the fifth day and Steve is trying to swallow a piece of toast, but it feels like cardboard and almost gets stuck in his throat. There's been no contact from Tony at all, not even a text to say he isn't interested in meeting up, or to announce he's stopping even the texting altogether. It's almost ten o'clock, and Steve thinks he'll go for a run, try to regain some focus. He knows that Sam, Nat and Thor at the bar have noticed his mood getting melancholic, after being almost too cheerful the week before. 

"Do you know at what ungodly hour one needs to leave Manhattan to be here before ten?"

Steve straightens up, eyes wide, as Tony slides into the boot in front of him. He's dressed with a black leather jacket over a band t-shirt, is wearing red-tinted glasses and looks totally amazing. Before Steve finds his voice back, Amy the waitress is already at their table. Tony looks up at her with a charming smile and gives her a travel mug Steve hadn't even noticed.

"Could you bring me a coffee please? Black?"

"Of course," she says, smiling. She barely looks at Steve to ask if he wants anything.

"Nothing, thank you," Steve manages to say. His heart is racing, hands suddenly moist and he can't take his eyes off of Tony .

"Sorry for the wait," Tony says, as soon as Amy has left. "As you know there was the thing in Hong Kong."

"The thing in Hong Kong?" Steve parrots, completely lost.

Tony tilts his head, then takes his glass phone out of his pocket and puts it on the table. "The launch of this baby at the Hong Kong Electronic Fair?" 

"Oh," Steve says. 

His surprise must show because Tony raises an eyebrow with a smirk.

"You don't follow the news very much, do you?" he asks. 

"General politics and current events, a bit," Steve says. "Tech news and entertainment, not so much," he admits.

"At the bar, you had no idea who I was either," Tony guesses.

"None whatsoever. I am not entirely dense, I thought you did look somewhat familiar, but that's about it."

"It was refreshing," Tony says.

As to drive the point home, Amy comes back with Tony's coffee, sashaying way more than usual.

"There you go, Mister Stark," she says, all smiles and bedroom eyes. That is until she sees the phone on the table and her hand flies to her mouth and barely covers a high pitched sound. "Oh my god, is that the Clarity?"

"Sure is," Tony says, sprawling back in the boot, an arm over the back rest. His smile is perfectly friendly, but even though Steve hasn't known him for long, he sees a difference from how Tony acted when he was showing Steve the phone at the bar. This is rehearsed public relations at work.

"It's so _beautiful_ ," Amy breathes out. "I've given an account, my pre-order is done. I cannot wait to get mine!"

"That's great to hear," Tony says. "It's a fantastic phone, you'll like it."

"I'm sure I will," Amy says with a cheeky smile. 

This is nice and everything, but Steve is getting a bit annoyed that Amy is getting in the way of his conversation with Tony. He wishes she'd go away already. Either Tony had read it on Steve's face or he wants Amy to go away too, because he takes out his wallet next.

"Here you go," Tony says, giving Amy a twenty-dollar bill. "Thanks for the coffee." 

"Oh," she says, smiles dimming a little at the clear dismissal. She's looking for change in her apron's pockets when Tony shakes his head.

"Keep the change sweetheart." In fact, he takes another bill and gives it to hear on top. "You know what? That's for Steve's breakfast, too."

"I'm-" Steve starts to protest; he can pay his own food.

"Shush," Tony says, waving his objections away. "A little compensation for having you eat out all week without warning you that I couldn't make it. Pepper forbade me to fly back before our showcase was done. Are you done eating?"

"Yeah," Steve says, sliding out of the boot. 

It's going to be easier to talk if they go, since it's not just Amy who noticed Tony. Several tables worth of customers are either blatantly staring or whispering among themselves while throwing glances their way. A teen might even be filming. Steve's not even the one who is being ogled and he finds the attention oppressive.

Tony smiles and pockets his phone before following suit, stepping around Amy with a last thank you. Steve has a feeling that the next time he comes to eat here, he'll get quizzed. 

"Is it always like that?" Steve can't resist asking, once they're out. Without any idea where Tony wants to go, Steve starts walking down the street.

"Sometimes," Tony says with a shrug. "It's always a bit worse after a lot of media exposure. Which you missed, but clearly the rest of the world didn't," he adds with a wink.

"Did it go over well, the launch?" Steve asks, genuinely curious.

Tony grins. "They lost their mind. We'd managed to keep it a secret, too, and I swear there was near fainting."

"It's a gorgeous phone," Steve says. 

"Pre-orders are through the roof, stocks prices are up, the board of directors is satisfied for once and my PA thinks I behaved. All in all it's a very nice week," Tony says, taking a sip from his coffee.

"That's great," Steve says. He doesn't say that his own week had gone from being giddy from the texting, then thrumming with anticipation at the idea of meeting Tony to really fucking miserable after five days without contact. And now it seems it bounced back to surreal.

As if reading his mind, Tony addresses the breakfast open date. "I wasn't sure I'd come at first," he admits. "Then I got caught in a pre-launch whirlwind."

"Do you want to know what happened, with the number?" Steve asks. 

"Yes and no," Tony says with a shrug. "Just why you didn't tell me from the start you weren't that girl?"

"I was never supposed to answer your texts, after that first day. But you kept doing it. And it was intriguing."

"Wore you down, huh?" Tony says with a smirk.

"Totally," Steve says with a laugh. "I meant for every text to be the last, but you'd pull me back in. Then it had been a while and I didn't know how to say it. And I really enjoyed our conversations."

"Did she know? That we were texting?" Tony asks.

"Nat?" He shakes his head. "No, she thought I'd stopped it the day after. I really am sorry, for everything. I swear there was nothing malicious."

There's a long silence after that, Tony mulling things over as they continue their stroll. It's thankfully not totally uncomfortable.

"Did _she_ know who I was, at the bar?" he asks.

"Yes. Never told me, though."

"Huh," Tony says, surprised. "And that's all you want, us texting again?"

That's a loaded question, in a way. Steve doesn't know how much to ask for, in fear of losing it all.

"I felt like we were becoming friends," Steve says. "So I'd like that, yes."

Tony looks at him, critical. Steve forces himself to look back evenly. "At the bar, you were flirting with me. You asked me out, even."

"I did." No bother denying that. 

"But now you're not interested anymore because you know who I am," Tony adds.

"What? No!" Steve says, shocked Tony could reach that conclusion. Though that's not really fair, because Tony's not totally wrong. Steve stops walking and gently grabs Tony's arm, so he turns towards him. He looks calm and composed, but there's something guarded in his expression, as if he's not surprised this happened at all. "I still find you incredibly attractive," Steve blurts out and fights the blush, though it's worth it just by the way the corner of Tony's mouth tilts up. "But I don't see what a guy like you would even find interesting in me, past, you know…" he gestures hoping it conveys his body, physical attraction.

Tony's mouth has turned back down, and his eyes are harder. "Yeah, of course. I'm just that shallow."

Steve's stomach plummets towards his heels. "God, no, no," he tries to backtrack. "I'm just very bland, and you're _you_."

That's received with an epic eye roll. "Please. There's nothing bland about you, Steve."

It's a very nice sentiment, and it warms Steve right up, but it's sadly misguided.

"I spend my time either at my job or working out," Steve says. "The handful of friends I have are working with me." 

Tony huffs a laugh. 

"If you want to play the 'my whole life is my work' card, I'm pretty sure I've got you beaten. Sometimes, vaguely, I remember I should work out, but the urge mostly goes away. Oh, and I have my own handful of friends, and by that I mean _three_ of them, on my frigging payroll," he says with a self-depreciating smile. There's something heady to being the focus of Tony Stark like Steve is now, being dissected, analyzed and somehow been found worthy. "Steve, you are drop dead gorgeous. You're funny. At the bar…" he trails off but Steve knows he meant to bring up how Steve offered water when he noticed Tony was uncomfortable. "Not bland. Never bland." 

"So you'd go on a date me?" Steve asks, slightly overwhelmed at the idea.

"We could try, find out if we click in real life too."

Tony genuinely looks interested, and how is that for an ego boost?

"That's… I'd like that too. But we can keep texting?" He feels he's really insistent about this, but it's important to him.

"Of course," Tony says. "Do you have a lineup of dorky links ready?"

Steve laughs. "Dorky links? You're the one with dorky links!"

"Keep telling yourself that, probe guy," Tony teases. 

"Ha," Steve says, elbowing him playfully and Tony evades with a cute giggle. Boy, it's going to be hard not to fall too fast for the guy. 

They've kept walking, Steve steering them towards the park, and Tony's phone has done a regular faint chiming all the while. He's been totally ignoring it, but now as there's a lull in conversation as they wait for a crosswalk sing to change, Tony takes it out.

"I'm sorry, this is annoying," he says.

"No problem." 

The guy has a multimillion company to run, after all. 

He tries not to snoop, but can't help to see how Tony's brow is furrowing as he rapidly sweeps on his screen.

"Ah, Jesus. I can't leave them for one morning," he grouses. Follows incredibly fast texting as Tony replies to something.

"Problem?" Steve asks.

"Not yet, but it could become one," Tony says with a sigh. "I'm sorry, I have to go."

It's disappointing, but Steve all wanted from his breakfast meeting with Tony was to apologize, which is done. On top he's got Tony's promise they'll keep in touch by text, and the intention to actually date is on the table. 

"I understand," Steve says. "So I'll be seeing you soon?"

"I sure hope so. My schedule is a bit crazy, to be honest."

"Set a time and a place, and I'll be there," Steve says. He doesn't care if it sounds too eager.

Tony smiles, visibly happy and Good Lord he's beautiful. Their traffic light has turned green then yellow and red again, and he's stuck gazing down at Tony like an idiot.

"Great. I will." Tony stays there, looking back up at him and yeah. 

It's clear they do not want to go their separate ways just yet, even if they have to. Steve is debating if a kiss on the cheek would be too corny when Tony is the one to take action, reaching for Steve's neck and gently tugging him down to kiss him softly on the mouth. The touch is electric and gives Steve a full body shiver and an army of butterflies in his stomach. What he wants the most in the world right now is to pull Tony close and kiss him some more, but they're on the side of the street, not even on a date. He can wait.

"I have a feeling clicking in real life won't be a problem for me," Steve says as Tony lets his hand fall down and steps back.

"I'm with you there," Tony says, eyes burning with desire. Steve has half a mind asking him to come home with him right now.

Another chime on Tony's phone jolts them out of the thick tension, and he grimaces. "I really don't want to go. But I have to."

"Go," Steve says, reluctantly. "But call soon."

Tony grins. "Got it Champ. Ciao." 

With that he turns on his heels to go back towards the diner, where his car probably is, and Steve just has to grin at how he's strutting as he goes. Man has a spectacular ass, that's for sure. He looks until Tony disappears from view, and happily goes home. He'll go for that run, after all, but frankly it's with a very light and happy heart.

**

Three days later, Steve isn't down from his high. Tony hasn't had time to spare for a date, the problem that reared up in R&D being a lot more serious than he thought, but he's been texting pretty consistently since. Mostly how he can't wait to see him again. Steve isn't complaining, but he did notice that there's been rarely any more than three hours between two texts, and he wonders if Tony slept at all in the last 48 hours. 

It's a busy Saturday night at the bar, and everyone is working, the place as full as it gets. Steve keeps the drinks coming and the bar stocked, more indulgent that he normally is with annoying drunks just because he can. No one can spoil this day, especially since Tony asked when his next day off was, and they set their first date for Monday. 

"You sure look chipper," Nat says, in one of the rare lull of the evening.

Steve shrugs, but he can't help the pleased smile. 

"Fine, be like that," Nat says, rolling her eyes. "Still texting with Tony Stark?"

"Yep," Steve says. He didn't tell them they met, and how it's progressing to more than just texts. As if to prove a point, Steve's phone buzz with a notification, and quite exaggeratedly he takes it out to check the text while Nat chuckles.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (11:59):**  
You working tonight?

Steve frowns, because Tony should be aware of that, they'd talked about it.

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (12:00):**  
Yes, until 3:30 am.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (12:00):**  
So you're at the bar right now?

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (12:01):**  
Yes Tony, I am at the bar since I work there. Is everything okay?

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (12:01):**  
Could you spare 15 minutes? 30 tops?

That makes Steve's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (12:02):**  
What for?

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (12:02):**  
I'd like to see you. I'm in a car, right outside. I know you're working, I won't impose.

He's here? That makes Steve grin.

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (12:03):**  
Come in, then! It's busy, but I'd love to see you.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (12:03):**  
Hum. No. Not really presentable? I'm a mess. I think I'll go, sorry.

What? He doesn't want him to go, that's for sure, and if Tony cannot come in, Steve will go to him. There are three guys waiting for drinks, even with Natasha busy serving them. 

**> > _SR_ SENT @ (12:04):**  
No! Don't go, I'll be right out. Give me five minutes, tops.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (12:05):**  
Okay, thank you. You're sure it's not a problem?

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (12:06):**  
Of course not. Wait for me, okay?

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (12:06):**  
Not moving.

He hurries to take the order of his customers – that had been silently judging his texting, Nat too – and as soon as everyone has paid Steve turns to Natasha.

"I'm taking my break right now," he says. 

"It's just past midnight," Nat says, totally unimpressed. When he takes breaks, it's usually a lot later than that. But he generally doesn't take a break, which he's been told repeatedly is not a good thing because it makes the others looks bad. She should be happy.

Steve gestures to the fact there is no customer at the bar at the moment. "I'm taking it now anyway."

"Fine," she says. 

He leaves before any customer appears, knowing he'd feel bad if it was suddenly busy. But there's Sam too, he's coming back behind the bar having taken order and Steve only blurts out 'break' as he passes through. 

"The hell?" Sam says, just as surprised as Nat.

It's mid-April, and even though the day was pleasantly warm the evening is chilly as he exits the bar. He belatedly thinks that he should have taken his coat, but a black car makes a signal with its headlights and Steve figures he won't be outside anyway. He jogs over the big town car and has a second of doubt seeing a man he doesn’t know in the driver’s seat before the back door opens.

"Right here, Steve," Tony says. 

Sliding in the back seat, Steve is surprised when the car starts rolling as soon as he's closed the door. His eyes are on Tony, though, who has big huge eyes and…

"Are you in pajamas?" Steve asks, bewildered, looking at the silky red fabric and robe over it all.

Tony grimaces. "Yes? Told you I couldn't go in like this."

Steve starts laughing, shaking his head. "You're ridiculous."

Thankfully the fondness he can't help but feel must come through because Tony's smile is sheepish but amused.

"It has been said," he admits.

"So I'm being kidnapped by a crazy man in pajamas," Steve says, gesturing to the city moving past.

"Oh," Tony says, lighting up. "I totally planned on having you delivered back soon the bar, but-"

"I do have to go back," Steve says to halt that idea right now. "Even if this is very intriguing."

Tony looks disappointed, but also resigned. "Thought so. Curse your work ethic. Happy, drive around for fifteen please?"

"No problem boss," the chauffeur says, before closing the privacy partition.

"Not that I am complaining at seeing you," Steve says, because he's thrilled to see Tony, and he thinks that feeling won't go away anytime soon. "But is there a reason for a pajama visit?"

The strangely fragile expression on Tony's face morphs, becoming more guarded. "It's stupid. I shouldn't… I'm sorry."

"Tell me," Steve says, firm but gentle.

He also dares to reach for Tony's hand, who is all but plastered to the opposing side of the bench, smushed against the door. The contact makes Tony relax a little.

"When I haven't slept in a while-" Tony starts.

"Define a while," Steve interrupts. 

"Hum. Well sixteen hours," Tony says, but he's shifty, trying to cover something. And sixteen hour is a normal amount of time for someone to be up between going to bed twice, so there's obfuscation, here.

"And you slept for how long, then?"

"Three?" Tony says, making a 'see, I was good'. "That's not much for normal folks, but I do it all the time. I don't have to sleep a lot. Four of five is fine."

Sadly it rings like the truth, but Steve is sure that's not the whole story. 

"Okay, then, how long did you sleep in the last 96 hours?" 

That makes Tony grimace. Caught him, them. "Eight?"

That's crazy, and Steve wants to shake Tony a little, tell him to take better care of himself but he doesn't feel like he has that right, at least not this early in their new relationship.

"You look ready for bed," Steve says, calmly. "So why aren't you sleeping right now?"

"I wanted to," Tony says, shrugging. "Ate, showered, went to bed. But then I just couldn't sleep, at all. I keep thinking-" he tapers out, looks away.

"Does it have something to do with me?" It's the only explanation to why Tony would get in a car and ask to see him, right away.

Tony nods. "I'm just wondering… I feel like I pushed a lot to see you, but all you wanted to do was text, so maybe you just said yes to placate me and then I know, I get attached, and I'm sort of a disaster and what if it implodes-"

He's babbling and Steve wants to stop the flow of nonsense so he brings their clasps hands up to kiss Tony's knuckles, which shuts him up effectively, making him gape. There's a fine tremor to Tony's hand, he's visibly exhausted. Steve is absolutely convinced that it's because Tony is pretty much dead on his feet that he is here at all, opening up like that. He's been careful not to touch feelings and vulnerabilities when they texted, and pointedly avoided even saying why he decided to forgive their rocky start. Steve has to be careful not to do a misstep because he's afraid that Tony will clamp up and evade once he's back to a regular state of mind.

"I want to see you too, Tony. A lot. I cannot wait to spend time with you," he says, sweeping his thumb back and forth on the inside of Tony's wrist, over his fast pulse.

"Yeah?" Tony says, slumping a little in relief.

"Yes. And I love our texting, but you don't have to text me every hour or so." Tony must have been doing it this often just to please Steve. It's sweet, but not if he feels he absolutely needs to do it to keep his interest. "I understand that you have a lot of work, and sleep is a good thing, I swear."

"Been overdoing it, huh? Tony says, looking slightly embarrassed. "Sorry, sorry."

There it is, Steve can feel Tony try to encase himself in armor, to stop showing how rattled he is.

"You didn't," Steve reassures. "Loved every one of them. Makes you feel closer to me, and I smile every time. But there's no obligation, okay?"

Tony breathes in and nods, then cracks a self-depreciating smile. "I'm sorry, I get a bit frazzled when I don't sleep enough. Better you know what you're getting into, right? The crazy comes with the genius."

"It's fine." Steve tugs on Tony's hand. "Could I get a hug?"

It earns him a delighted smile and Tony finally slides closer on the car's bench and Steve closes his arms around Tony's shoulders, who hugs him around the torso right back, hiding his face in Steve's neck almost immediately. It's surprisingly trusting, especially since Tony basically melts into his arms with a satisfied sigh. His hair, soft under Steve's cheek, smells faintly like coconut. 

"Mmmm," Tony says after a minute, not letting go at all. "Comfortable. Hot."

His breathing has slowed, especially since Steve has started petting his hair. Steve smiles, endeared.

"Do you think you can sleep now?" he asks.

"Now? Yes," Tony says, nuzzling into Steve's neck.

"Not on me," Steve says, laughing. He'd love to have Tony sleep in his arms for all the hours that he needs to feel better, but Steve needs to go back to work. "In your bed, doofus."

Tony whines, gripping Steve shirt harder. "Noooo." It's more playful than anything, and it makes Steve smile.

"Shhh," Steve says, caressing up and down his back. "Another time, okay? But I can't right now."

"If you promise," Tony says, sullen.

"I promise," Steve says, and he feels Tony letting go, finger-by-finger, then pulling back. He's pouting, though, and Steve leans in to kiss the frown off his face.

He meant to make the kiss sweet, but almost immediately Tony opens his mouth and he can't resist making it deeper, hotter. Tony tastes like mint and Steve is tempted to slide his hands under his soft pajama to reach what has to be even softer skin. He stops himself, though, especially when he realizes that the car has stopped and they're back at the bar. The fifteen minutes have to be up. He breaks the kiss, but can't help the impulse to push back the hair off Tony's forehead, and trail his fingers on the side of his face. He's gorgeous, now with sleepy eyes and a soft expression on his face.

""See you Monday, okay?" Steve says, kissing his forehead. 

"Yes, okay. I can't wait," Tony says. 

"I can't wait either," Steve says, giving him a last peck on the lips before reluctantly getting out of the car, and closing the door. It’s a herculean effort not to just ditch the job and get back in that car and into Tony’s arms.

He looks at the car speed away, but before going back to work he takes out his phone.

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (12:36):**  
Sweet dreams, Tony.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (12:37):**  
No other choice now ;) 

Then, right after.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (12:37):**  
Thank you.

 **> > _SR_ SENT @ (12:38):**  
My pleasure. See you soon.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (12:38):**  
Not soon enough. But yes.

Not soon enough indeed. But they will see each other, and Steve knows it's going to be great. He's about to enter the bar when his phone chimes with a new message.

 **> >RECEIVED FROM _TONY_ @ (12:39):**  
Oh and for Monday, I dare you to find the most dangerous sport out there. We'll compare, and the loser pays for dinner.

Steve grins. 

**> > _SR_ SENT @ (12:39):**  
You're on.

Yes, this will be fantastic, Steve can already feel it. That's the guy he knows, the guys he texted with for two months not even knowing what he looked like and had already started falling for. So what if he's billionaire Tony Stark on top of that? It’s with a spring in his step that Steve goes back to work, already counting down the hours until he can see Tony again.

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> My infinite gratitude to my betas, the lovely @shetlandowl and @ishipallthings, for their kindness and suggestions that were so on point. All remaining errors through the rewrites are totally my own. Also many thanks to the IMZY "Brining food to the lab" community for their support and help in my time of need :) 
> 
> As for MassiveSpaceWren: you give awesome prompts! Thanks for the inspiration and I hope this offering pleased you! Happy Holidays!
> 
> Thank you for reading ☺


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